Page 80 of A Cold Hard Truth

“Do you want it to be?”

“It might help,” he wagered.

“Eat, Sebastian. No booze today.”

“Okay,” he rasped.

Sebastian pulled the lid off the yogurt and threw it in his sink. He could deal with the trash later. He gave a longing glance to the bottle of vodka in his door, then kicked the fridge closed and sat back down at the counter.

“Yogurt it is,” he said. “Did you want to stay on the phone while I ate it?”

“No. I trust you to keep this part of your word,” Remington said, “Besides. I have a conference room of people waiting for me that I need to get to.”

“I really am sorry to keep you,” he apologized again.

“I’m not.” There was a slight pause on the other end of the phone. “I don’t know for sure what this is, Sebastian, but it’s not a hardship for me. I hope you know that.”

“If you say so.” He shoved the spoon into his yogurt. “Thank you just the same.”

“I’ll check in with you after my meeting,” Remington said.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.”

The phone beeped as the call disconnected, and his screen went black. Sebastian sighed and shoved the spoon into his mouth, forcing the yogurt down his throat. He really didn’t want to eat, but he didn’t think he would throw it up. A dozen bites later and he scraped the bottom of the plastic container with his spoon, then tossed it all into the sink. It could be a problem for future Sebastian to deal with.

He grabbed his things and locked up his condo, heading into the office for a change of scenery. He greeted his secretary with a smile and quick wave. She looked surprised to see him, manicured hands flailing around her desk.

“Mr. St. George,” she stammered. “What brings you in?”

“I wanted to look out a different window. I didn’t know I had to explain my presence here.” he snapped, immediately regretting it, but not bold enough to take it back.

“You don’t. Of course not Mr. St. George.”

She looked appropriately chastised, and he asked her to send his brother a copy of his divorce paperwork before he locked himself in his office with a sigh. Sebastian was surprised Rhys hadn’t called to get it himself, rendering Sebastian fully useless. But it also didn’t surprise him that his brother wanted to make him do the work. Almost like a reminder of his horrible judgement. Sebastian’s secretary could earn her salary and take care of it for him, because he wasn’t eager to look at Daniella’s name attached to his last name, and he surely didn’t want to talk to his brother again unless it was urgent, which this wasn’t.

Sebastian locked himself inside his office and turned on his computer, spinning his chair to stare out the window at the views of Myers Bluff while he waited for it to boot up. He really loved the beach town he and Callahan had moved to after college. Mallardsville was close, but far enough to give them the space they’d needed to regain some autonomy.

He’d been restless for a while, his desperation for something, for anything, coming to a head right before he’d met Daniella. He’d been close to signing away all of his money and backpacking across Europe or something comparably unhinged, but then he’d met her and everything changed.

Sebastian had known the marriage was a bad idea from the moment the proposal left his mouth, but he’d been stagnant, complacent. Daniella had been fresh and vibrant, and to him, she represented all the things he hadn’t been allowed to have before. Spontaneity, happiness, desire.

So much desire.

The way Daniella had wanted him in the early days was still enough to distract him. His arousal only dampening when he remembered who was attached to the hands, to the mouth, to the hot and wet cunt.

Sebastian groaned, making a mental checklist of how everything he’d wanted had been taken or replaced. From his desire to have a thriving marriage where his brother hadn’t had luck, to the way he wanted to find business success that wasn’t spoon-fed to him like Rhys’s was, down to the simple pleasures his best friend took from his new lover and future husband.

As always, Sebastian found himself lacking.

But none of that mattered. He had six hours of work on his schedule for the day even though he didn’t have six hours of work to do, and more than anything, he found himself wanting to be enough for Remington. He didn’t know what he would do if he ever fell short for the man who’d already given him more than he deserved.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Remington Gives a Spanking

The apartment was quiet.